Hi all!

It's been a long time since I posted anything but I thought I'd keep up the tradition of posting a Dramione one-shot near Christmas :) Hope you all enjoy!

There was an odd feeling of detachment that came with catching a train.

Hermione knew it well.

A rush of greenery that flashed by too quickly to comprehend. The steady rumble of the train on the tracks, the slight jolts of movement. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was back on the Hogwarts Express, magic running free in the form of fizzing whizzbees and chocolate frogs. If she only focused on the rocking motion of the train, she could almost hear the sound of the trolley lady bustling past each compartment. But when she opened her eyes, it was just the muggle train, taking her back to London. There was a strange stillness inside the carriage that made her think of shouted, 'Impedimenta!'s and 'Stupefy!'s.

This time, her hands were laden with some chocolate frog cards, a knitted scarf, some homemade mince pies and a diary. She didn't particularly know why she took the train to the Burrow every time. The walk from the station to the Weasley home was not short, after all. Perhaps, she mused, it was some form of mental preparation. Considering she'd travelled the journey so many times, she didn't think she'd still need to practise breathing to see her best friend. Then again, he wasn't really her best friend anymore. Just what was left.

Palming an 'Albus Dumbledore' card, she placed the rest of them in the scarf, rolled it into a ball and stuffed it unceremoniously into her bag. Molly was kind to her, as always, but perhaps too kind, she thought, as she added the bright orange scarf to her collection. It wasn't even a particularly nice orange. But she couldn't complain.

She'd give the mince pies to Harry - she knew how much he craved them after a particularly trying day at the Auror Office but remembered with a slight grimace the last time he'd tried to get her to sneak him 'junk food' when he was on a couple diet with Ginny. Perhaps she'd send them straight to the Auror Office.

Looking down at her lap, Hermione gazed mistrustfully at the diary. It was worn and slightly stained and, considering their past with diaries, she wasn't sure what to make of this one. But it had been from him, so she opened it.

Inside, there were three black squiggles, one with red hair, another with black and the last with brown curls. There was a red lightning shape under the black haired squiggle and under that, two green blobs rimmed by black. Each squiggle held a stick rimmed with yellow lines. Hermione felt her chest tighten as she saw one of the wands with a blue smudge in the middle and Molly's neat writing, 'Spellotape'. With a snap, she slammed the diary shut, knuckles white against its brown cover and lips pressed tightly.

No, it hadn't gotten easier.

Breathing deeply, Hermione shifted in her seat but paused as her foot brushed against a slip of paper on the floor. Curious, she bent down with difficulty and grasped the corner of the paper, avoiding a patch of gum next to it, and flipped it. With a flinch, she recoiled and the paper dropped to the floor, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

There was no mistaking the white blond hair or the face of those he had inherited it from. She only knew one family who could all look so carelessly arrogant and aristocratic with every move they made and yet, even as the photograph moved and its subjects looked at her with confusion and disdain, she saw the way her hands held both of theirs, the way his mother brushed his hair away from his face and his father's hand, resting comfortably on his son's shoulder.

Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen the Malfoys look so human.

Absurdly, her first thought manifested itself in the form of incredulity. What was Malfoy thinking, dropping a wizarding photograph in a muggle place? What if someone had seen the picture moving? And then it hit her that there were other, more troubling, issues. What was Malfoy doing on a muggle train in the first place? Public transport was not, she admitted, the most clean at times and with their pureblood mania and spewed comments of filth, a muggle train was the last place Hermione expected to find Malfoy. And yet, the photograph rested innocently in her lap, an insult through its existence, an unspeakable contradiction.

Hermione realised, with an absentminded concern, that the last time she'd seen Draco Malfoy had been at his father's public trial. It had been messy, Harry had testified and he had been given the Dementor's Kiss. 'Narcissa Malfoy under house-arrest!' the headlines screamed. 'Malfoy heir nowhere to be found.'

The train slowed, and Hermione disembarked with the rest of the passengers, feeling a slight head rush as she returned to reality. Well, she supposed she ought to send the photograph back to Malfoy. But then, she remembered ruefully, a fortified place like Malfoy Manor wouldn't just let unknown owls of enemy war heroines fly in. No, she'd have to do some interrogation. And the first place to start would be with a certain, Italian Slytherin in her department.

The manor was always cold, and it had been for the longest time.

Draco took a deep breath before opening the large, oak door, his palms slightly clammy. But that was the case every time he opened these doors.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, his eyes were immediately drawn to the figure on the bed, silent and unmoving. He felt a moment of momentary panic, but his heartbeat slowed with the realisation that the house elves would have called him if anything had happened to his father.

Moving a chair to sit beside the bed as quietly as he could, Draco opened the curtains with a swish of his wand. Lucius didn't move.

Slipping a hand into his coat pocket, he frowned briefly as his hand grasped at nothing. As he searched frantically at other pockets, his level of panic went from 'slightly stressed' to 'help'. Feeling an intense resignation, coupled with the fear of his mother's wrath when she found out he'd lost the bloody photo, he put his head in his hands and groaned.

It was going to be a long week.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was always busy. There was a common misconception in the wizarding world that the Auror Office was the busiest place in the ministry but Hermione realised on her first day of work just how mistaken the wizarding world was.

Hermione ducked without breaking her stride as a swarm of memos crossed her path with ferocious intensity and whizzed towards the lifts, a larger swarm than usual since it was Monday. Strolling into an adjacent office, Hermione scanned the room and grinned. Target acquired.

"Blaise! A word?"

All movement in the office stopped as the man rose from his seat and followed her out of the office, head inclined curiously as he stared at the curly haired witch in front of him. It felt strange, in a way, to be speaking to and working with the Gryffindor when seven years ago he wouldn't have glanced twice at her.

"Hermione. What can I do for you?" He asked, deciding to be as cordial as possible. She was his boss, after all.

Oddly enough, the witch started to fidget. "So about- hm. You still talk to Malfoy, right?"

Blaise tried very hard not to let his surprise show on his face but he mustn't have been very successful since Hermione looked even more uncomfortable than she had a moment before. "Sure, I see him all the time. Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, of course not!" The war heroine frantically waved her hands, and if this hadn't been about Draco, Blaise would have laughed at the normally composed witch. "I was wondering where I would be able to find him?"

Feeling slightly suspicious now, Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Well, he took over his father's company role pretty quickly after…you know," Blaise said quickly, nervously hoping she wouldn't question him further about it. She didn't. "He spends most of his time in his office building or Malfoy Manor, nowadays. We go to the pub sometimes, but that'd be the weekend, and I'm assuming you want to find him as soon as possible?

"Yes, and thank you, I really appreciate this," Hermione smiled, a bit of the anxiety melting away from her face. "So I should try the company?"

"Yep, that's your best bet." Blaise leaned against the wall and fixed her with his most piercing stare. "What are you up to, Granger?"

Hermione went red. "I just need to give something back to him. Thanks, Blaise."

And with that, she fled.

Hermione looked at the imposing building with wavering confidence. Malfoy Inc. had expanded rapidly in the last five years and delved into most industries, from fashion to investments in humanitarian projects and, to the surprise of every witch and wizard, Muggle industries like car manufacture and telecommunications. Draco Malfoy was a formidable businessman, and Hermione hadn't seen him since his father's public trial and subsequent Dementor's Kiss.

With shaky breaths, Hermione found her way to the top floor of Malfoy Inc. and rung the bell at the reception desk.

"Hello, may I help you?"

Trying not to be thrown by the lack of ditzy female as a receptionist, Hermione smiled warmly at the middle aged man at the desk. "Good morning, sir. I'm looking for Mr Malfoy. Is he in today?"

The man shuffled aside some paper and opened a thick, leather journal. "Do you have an appointment, Miss…?"

"Granger. No, I'm afraid not, but I needed to return something to him and I felt it would be appropriate to come as soon as possible."

"I'm afraid Mr Malfoy will not be free until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. Would you like me to pass on the item?" The man asked, a look of sincere apology on his face. Hermione's eyebrows creased and she felt oddly panicked.

"Oh, no, it's alright. I'll, um…"

"Perhaps you could see if you'd be able to catch him at lunch tomorrow?" The man asked kindly, rummaging in a draw for something. His hand withdrew to reveal a small, white card. "This is where he normally dines at lunch, and I know for a fact that he has no lunchtime commitments tomorrow. Perhaps pop in then?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," Hermione replied, trying not to gush. She absentmindedly touched the photograph in her pocket. "Would you please let him know I came by with a photograph of his?"

"Of course, Miss Granger," the man smiled. Hermione nodded, before making her way back down to the street, feeling slightly uneasy that she would be forced to interact with her childhood nemesis now despite the fact that she could've just given the receptionist the photo. Blinking suddenly, Hermione realised that she hadn't seen Harry in a while. Well, she'd need the moral boost tomorrow before meeting with Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy emerged from his office at one o'clock, feeling weary and slightly out of it. Rubbing his stiff neck, he leaned against the receptionist desk and gave a long suffering sigh.

"Matthew, any news this morning?"

"Nothing pressing, sir," his assistant replied, flipping open his leather journal. "Actually, Miss Granger came by before, asking to see you."

"Granger?" Draco almost got whiplash from how fast he turned around. "Hermione Granger?"

"That's the one. She said she wanted to return a photograph to you? I told her to find you at lunch tomorrow."

Draco went pale. Shit.

Draco heard her scream again and squeezed his eyes shut. He had never liked Granger at school, and the whole world knew it, but this was taking it too far.

"NO! Hermione!"

"Stop it, let me go, Hermione, Hermione! STOP!"

His sense of entrapment grew, and he felt his scowl deepen in an attempt to hide his trembling. He didn't know what he'd do if she died in his drawing room.

"Draco. Is there anything you'd like to say, nephew?

Without realising it, he'd taken a step forward. He felt the tension increase and heard his mother's sharp intake of breath before he started to speak.

"Aunt Bellatrix. Would it not be better…"

"Hm?"

"To…" Cursing himself and his cowardice, Draco felt his diminishing confidence crumble. "Nothing."

Bellatrix smiled at him. "That's what I thought."

With a sudden slash of wand movement, Draco felt a sharp, stinging pain across his torso and felt the world turn dizzily. The last thing he heard was a frantic, "Draco!", before his vision went blank.

Hermione stood in panic, almost upsetting the tea on her best friend's table. "Oh no! It's almost– I had a meeting at lunchtime!"

Harry looked sternly at her. "Hermione, are you alright? You just asked me, in the space of an hour, what Malfoy was up to these days, if I'd seen Ron recently and whether or not I was going to a Quidditch game that happened a week ago," Harry said with a knowing glint in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Knowing Harry was an Auror and exactly how good he was at deducing things, she felt her explanation was probably more for her benefit than his. "I just– the other day– okay. Let me rephrase. The other day, I was coming home from the Burrow, and I found a photograph on the floor of the train." Here, Hermione paused. Harry gave her an encouraging nod, and she boldly continued. "It was of the Malfoys."

"The Malfoys?" Harry almost spat his drink out. Hermione nodded fervently.

"Right? That was my reaction too."

"On a muggle train?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Anyway, that's who my meeting is with…now!" Hermione went into full panic mode again. "I have to go, Harry! See you at the Burrow on Sunday!"

Barely allowing her friend to reply, Hermione grabbed her cloak and disapparated.

Draco scowled at his watch. It was 1:53pm and there was no sign of Hermione Granger's bushy head.

Thank god he'd already eaten – he had to be back at his office by two, and he was really pushing it now. He couldn't be late to this meeting but Granger had his bloody photograph and he really didn't want to have to continue this odd acquaintance with her.

Glancing at his watch again, his scowl deepened as he saw it was 1:56pm. He couldn't wait any longer. Throwing down some galleons at his table, he stepped outside the restaurant and disapparated just as he thought he heard, "Malfoy!"

Hermione cursed. Loudly.

Ignoring the disapproving stares, she spun on her heel and left Diagon Alley.

"No!"

Ron's cry went unheard as Bellatrix cackled, Hermione screaming from another bout of the cruciatus. She could see them both, a red and a black fuzzy head, just at the edge of her wavering vision but the red hot explosions of pain kept her from noticing much else. Three white blond spots stood at the other end, with one of them lying in a pool of red, but she paid them no mind. She couldn't if she tried.

"Take me instead, take me! Leave her alone!"

And then, it was as if the gods finally had enough, and the pain stopped. But Hermione did not relax.

"Oh…the dear little mudblood has an admirer! How fitting that he's a blood traitor," Bellatrix smiled, a sick sort of malice in her eyes. Hermione let out an involuntary whimper. "Oh, don't worry, you'll be alright. But he might not be. Filthy blood traitor."

Hermione started to protest as Greyback dragged her towards Harry and one of the snatchers started to pull Ron forward, but as she passed her best friend, his hand squeezed hers, hard. When she looked up, his eyes held a resigned determination that she hadn't seen before, but he still managed to smile at her.

"It'll be alright, 'Mione, trust me. It'll be alright."

Bellatrix cackled, and that was all Hermione could hear in her mind until Ron's screaming started.

It had been more than a week since she'd found the photograph and she was getting desperate.

Hermione sat and stewed over her cup of tea in her favourite little nook, a cute book café called 'The Globe Theatre'. Her favourite Austen book lay oddly unopened on her lap and she looked resentfully at the photograph in front of her. Honestly, how hard was it to find one wizard?

Apparently, very.

Taking a sip of her tea, the bell at the door of the café rung to signal a new customer, but Hermione ignored it in favour of opening her book in an attempt to read. That is, she ignored it until a very familiar voice said, "Granger."

Almost dropped her book, Hermione looked up and found the very wizard she'd been looking for. "Malfoy!"

Upon closer inspection, she noticed that he looked different. He was still Malfoy, with his sneer and white blond hair, but he looked older, and sadder, somehow. The hard angles of his face had softened and his sneer seemed to falter at his eyes. Not at all like the boy she remembered. When he cleared his throat, she realised she'd just stared at him for a good minute.

Going pink, she gestured (or flailed, really), at him to take the other seat. He did so, and Hermione felt the awkward tension rise more. But he didn't make a cocky comment, or call her a mudblood, so she figured this was one of the better situations in which they'd met.

"Are you going to give it back to me?"

Trying to gauge his reaction, Hermione nodded slowly, before pushing the photograph across the table. And then it was as if the floodgates had opened.

Malfoy's eyes had previously been carefully blank, his face kept perfectly neutral, but then she'd pushed the photograph towards him and his eyes had exploded with emotion. There was an almost desperation in the way he grabbed at the photo, that little family portrait where all three Malfoys smiled simultaneously, but only if you looked for it and waited long enough. Hermione would know. She'd looked at the photo for too many hours.

She felt the sudden urge to leave, to leave him to his private thoughts, but he looked up rather unexpectedly, his gaze perfectly serious, and said, "Thank you."

Feeling rather overwhelmed, Hermione could only stutter a vague, "You're welcome?"

Hermione continued to sip her tea as she observed him, and he, her, with neither of them, to the surprise of the other, leaving. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"Would you like anything? To drink, I mean."

Looking oddly relieved, he nodded, and ordered a cup of coffee. Still looking at each other now with less of a wariness and more of a curiosity, Draco cleared his throat again, just as Hermione began to speak.

Gesturing at her to speak, she did. "What were you doing on a muggle train?"

Surprised, Draco just asked stupidly, "What?"

"Your photo. It was on a muggle train. Why?"

Finally understanding, he nodded. "As I'm sure you know, I work with muggles in telecommunication. I tend to travel to speak with them using muggle means." He paused slightly, and then looked at her steadily. "I never got to thank you, you know."

Hermione tilted her head. "For what?"

"For testifying. For saving me from a prison sentence that would have outlived me. For saving my mother from that life."

"You have Harry to thank for that," Hermione said quietly, looking down for the first time since he'd arrived. "Your mother, whatever her other faults, saved Harry's life that night, and in effect, every witch and wizard's life from Voldemort's tyranny. Any other crimes cancelled out, and there weren't many to begin with. You, as well, being a minor and blackmailed into most of your crimes, could suffer nothing more than a probationary period, which you did. Your father, on the other hand…"

She saw his face tighten almost imperceptibly, and she would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it, but ploughed on. "I can't say that I ever liked Lucius Malfoy, but no one deserves the Dementor's Kiss. It shouldn't exist as a form of punishment anyway but– "

"Granger."

"I've been trying to get rid of it for years but–"

"Granger."

"It's honestly surprising how difficult it is to change one law– "

"Hermione!"

Hermione finally paused, incredulity colouring her face. Malfoy was a little pink, but he sighed.

"I get it. Really, I do. I just wanted to thank you."

"Oh."

Feeling stupid, she shut up.

Draco felt his frustration growing, and it was mainly self-directed: a) why was he still here, and b) why was she so different?

The first was fairly easy to answer and led directly to the second. She was oddly fascinating. She was still Hermione Granger and everything that entailed but she seemed older. More worn.

This led him to his second question. And he was absolutely determined to find an answer.

"So, Granger. What are you up to these days? I know you're in Magical Law Enforcement," he tried. At her suspicious look, he could almost feel Salazar Slytherin turning in his grave. What kind of cunning Slytherin was he?

"I'm a very boring person, really. I just go to work. I read. I go to the Burrow every Sunday, sometimes Saturday's too. I talk to Harry, and Ginny. I– "

"No Weasel?"

Draco regretted bringing up the weasel as soon as the name left his lips. Hermione's shoulders tightened and he actually felt her occlumency shields strengthen. Well then. Touchy topic.

"It's none of your business, really, Malfoy."

He leaned back, and he could tell she knew he'd won this round of whatever game they were playing. "Just making conversation."

He felt, more than saw, her indignation rise to his bait. And then it stopped, and she seemed to deflate. "What do you remember about the end of the war?"

Feeling slightly jarred by the abrupt change in topic, he replied, "Nothing much. I blocked most of it out."

"Then I guess you don't know what happened to Ron," Hermione said with a sad smile, looking at the table.. Draco felt his stomach twist uneasily. "He was tortured, at Malfoy Manor."

Draco started. "But wasn't that when you…"

"Bellatrix used the cruciatus on me for almost twenty minutes. When you began to protest, she almost killed you. Ron begged her to swap me with him, and she did, but I still don't know why. He…they had him next to Frank and Alice Longbottom for a while, but Molly took him home. He likes it better at home anyway." Hermione finally looked up, and Draco felt sick.

"From the way you're reacting, I guess no one told you?"

Swallowing heavily, he shook his head. "No. I…I'm sorry that that happened to him. I'm sorry you had to see it."

"It's not okay, of course, and I don't think I'm ever going to be okay with it, but it…gets easier," Hermione said, head bowed once again. Then, she looked him straight in the eye. "I never got to say thank you either. If you hadn't intervened at the Manor…I'm sure I would be right beside Ron. So thank you."

Trying not to look incredulous, he stared at her. She had been tortured in his home, he had failed to do anything, and she was thanking him? He couldn't help looking at her in wonder. "You have nothing to thank me for. But if you insist upon it– "

"– I do– "

"– then I guess this makes us even."

Draco hesitated for a brief second, before thinking, screw it, and exhaling. "Do you…think we could start over?"

Hermione looked surprised, but not horrified, which he considered a bonus. With a curious look, she held out her hand. "Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you."

Feeling oddly warm, Draco grasped her hand in his and shook. "Draco Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

That's it! If you celebrate it, hope you all have a wonderful Christmas :)

Until next time!